


if we can stay like this until

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-qualifying but pre-race in Monza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if we can stay like this until

"What was that, then?" Rob asks, when Felipe returns to the garage, gets out of the car. 

Felipe's smirking as he takes his helmet off, but he looks around carefully, checking that no one's watching too closely before he grins quickly at Rob, says, all innocence, "What?"

"Cheeky," Rob murmurs, trying not to smile back. The rest of the garage is almost totally silent, faces like stone, and Rob knows both he and Felipe are in for a right bollocking, but, for once, he can't really bring himself to care.

"He was too far back," Felipe announces, loudly, for the benefit of anyone listening, and today, _anyone_ would seem to be _everyone_ , all ears and eyes peeled, the tension thick in the air, sticky with heat and trepidation. "I tried to slow down but he was too far back."

Rob nods. "I know you tried," he says, swatting Felipe's arse, giving it a discreet, friendly little squeeze; perhaps not discreet _enough_ , given the scrutiny they're currently receiving, but then Rob's had enough of being discreet, is fed up with being subtle. Changes are coming: he knows, Felipe knows, and neither of them are quite as prepared to toe the line as they've been in the past.

Felipe heads for the back of the garage, and Rob follows him, feeling the stares, but what does it matter?

And, naturally, it ends up being a longer night than expected, what with the engine change and all the shouting. Di Montezemolo won't even speak, not to anyone, and Fernando disappears straight after quali with a face like a slapped arse. Stefano looks like he's going to burst a blood vessel when he confronts Rob and Felipe, alternately shouting and pleading, gesturing wildly as he speaks.

There's been plenty of conversations like this in their time here, and usually Felipe just takes it, looking shame-faced, assuring everyone that next time he'll do better, make it right, because that's what Felipe does. But tonight there's something different about him. He's not defiant, not challenging, but he's calm, self-contained, like for once it's all just rolling off him, nothing being taken to heart.

And who could blame him? Felipe's sacrificed everything for this team, Rob thinks, nearly sacrificed his bloody _life_ , for fuck's sake, and the fact that this is the way it's going to end makes Rob feel numb inside. It's racing, yeah, but Ferrari has always been about more than racing. All that talk about _family_ and _team spirit_ , and Rob never wanted to believe it was all bullshit, but maybe it was.

Maybe it was all lies. 

Or maybe this is just Formula 1, and that's the way things are, no time for sentiment, no value to be placed on loyalty. The only things that matter are money and winning, and who would be naive enough to expect anything else?

Rob's not sure he even understands, not anymore.

But he understands _this_ , riding up in the hotel lift with Felipe pressed up against his back, arms draped around Rob's waist, the side of his face resting warm between Rob's shoulderblades. He slides his hands down, into Rob's trouser pockets, rubbing his cock through the fabric.

Rob smiles, feeling all the tension of the past few days start to fade away like it's less than nothing, and perhaps it is, because this is what's important: here, now, the two of them. "What are you doing, Philip?" he asks, playful.

"I'm not doing anything, _Robert_ ," Felipe says, giggling a little, stroking more firmly, fingers over Rob's hardening length, making him gasp with it.

"Shit," he says, as the lift doors open, and Felipe releases him, but there's no one around, no one to see. 

They always book separate rooms but it's merely for form's sake, because they always end up together. Felipe lets the door fall shut behind them, and Rob grabs two beers from the mini-bar, opening them, handing one to Felipe before he sits himself down on the foot of the bed, suddenly feeling tired.

He yawns, and Felipe nudges him with his foot. "Old man," he says.

"Fuck off," Rob tells him, affectionately. He pats the bed next to him. "Come and sit down," he says.

"No." Felipe looks at him, pouts in that way he knows perfectly well gets Rob going, makes him wants to _bite_ , take Felipe's bottom lip in his teeth, lick the inside of his mouth, suck on his tongue. 

But Rob can be patient, knows how to play the game. "No?" he asks.

"No," Felipe says. He puts his beer down, pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it to one side, standing, his arms out a little, waiting for Rob to admire him.

"Is this a striptease?" Rob asks, eyes raking over Felipe's tanned chest, his abs, and lower, staring at the obvious erection in Felipe's jeans.

"No," says Felipe, shaking his head. "A show. A striptease you need music."

"We don't need music."

"No," Felipe agrees, bending over, taking off his shoes and socks. He turns around as he unbuttons his jeans, slipping them slowly down over his arse, moving his hips as they slide down his legs. He steps out of them before turning back to face Rob, now clad only in black boxer briefs, cock straining against the thin material.

Rob's mouth suddenly feels dry, and he swallows down another gulp of beer, before leaning to one side, putting the bottle on the floor, out of the way. "Take those off," he says, gesturing, and Felipe obeys, pushing off his briefs, letting them fall to the floor.

"You like?" he asks, and there's the faintest hint of insecurity in the question, a tiny sliver of _need_ that hits Rob like something tangible.

"I like," he answers, and yeah, he does. So much. Felipe's body is intimately familiar to him, almost more so than his own, but it's a revelation every last time, compactly muscled, lean and strong, so very strong.

They look at each other for a long, long moment, words that don't need to be spoken because they _know_ , both of them, deeper and truer than Rob could ever have imagined.

"Come here," he says, and Felipe crosses the distance between them, sinking to his knees, unzipping Rob's trousers with practiced ease, taking Rob's cock in his mouth. And how many times have they done this, over the years? More than either of them could count, and maybe things are going to change, but this never will, Rob is certain, feeling the pressure building inside Felipe sucks him, tongue working all the right places.

His hand is on the back of Felipe's neck, fingers curling into the short hair at the nape, pulling a little as he comes, heat of Felipe's throat swallowing him down.

Rob falls back on to the bed, moving himself up, pulling Felipe with him, kissing him, hungry but content. Felipe's mouth tastes of Rob's come, and he remembers a time, forever ago, when that would have disgusted him, but it's the taste of _them_ now, blending together into one whole.

Felipe rubs himself up against Rob's hip, small, frantic whines into the kiss until Rob's hand encircles him and he thrusts into his fist, desperate movements until he spurts hot on to Rob's skin.

They both take a breath, and then Rob sighs, pushing Felipe to one side and sitting up, because he's still wearing his _shoes_ , for fuck's sake, so he undresses, wiping himself down with his shirt. Felipe lifts up the bed covers, sliding under, and Rob slips in beside him, their bodies arranging themselves into each other with accustomed simplicity, Felipe in Rob's arms, head resting on his chest.

Rob runs his fingers through Felipe's hair. "You going to be all right tomorrow?" he asks. 

"With what?"

"Today was…" Rob laughs, rueful. "You can't fuck with Fernando tomorrow. Not in a race."

"I'll let him past," Felipe says. He doesn't sound bitter, and sometimes Rob doesn't know how he does it, but then Felipe's always been better than him, than everyone, the best person Rob's ever known. 

"Good lad," he says, firmly, the words seeming hollow.

"I am a good lad," says Felipe, his usual atrocious imitation of Rob's accent making him grin. Felipe's hand skims over Rob's chest. "And after…" he says, not completing the thought, the words hanging in the air like a portent.

"After is after," says Rob, pulling him closer. "We'll deal with that when it happens." He's not so sure, but right now he can be strong enough for both of them.

"Together?" Felipe asks, quietly.

"Together," Rob says. "Always." 

And it's the one thing he's certain of.


End file.
